


Curiosity Isn't Always Deadly

by Batshit_Bogs



Series: Why Adopt Kids When You Can Adopt Merpeople [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Fluff, Human Bruce Wayne, Humor, Jack and Janet's A+ Parenting, Merperson Dick Grayson, Merperson Jason Todd, Merperson Tim Drake, Tim Drake-centric, Tim doesn't understand human things, Tim is sad and lonely but what's new, a dash of angst, he makes one (1) friend, honestly neither do i, oh wait -, the world must be ending, wow look at me i'm writing something that's mainly fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26675065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batshit_Bogs/pseuds/Batshit_Bogs
Summary: For years Tim wondered what it’d be like to go to the surface, up until his parents tell him they’re moving from the trench to go to better waters.-It's common knowledge among sea-dwellers that humans are ruthless killers.Tim believes it until he meets one.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Series: Why Adopt Kids When You Can Adopt Merpeople [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1976269
Comments: 50
Kudos: 564





	Curiosity Isn't Always Deadly

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know it's not mermay, but why have a mer-month when you can have a mer-YEAR?
> 
> Once again my fantabulous friend edited this, without her it would be a hot mess.
> 
> Jason and Tim's designs are heavily based off of the ones @ Symeona posted on Insta/Tumblr. Check out their art, it's god-tier stuff. Also, I drew the exact designs [here](https://batshit-birds.tumblr.com/post/639798629700419584/cass-and-jay-mer-au-designs-get-ya-cass-and-jay) and [here](https://batshit-birds.tumblr.com/post/639684149206204416/decided-to-make-my-own-design-for-tim-because-i). Though Tim's scales are a lot paler/dingy in this fic.  
> . You might need to scroll a little 
> 
> Spoken italics are in merspeak, spoken normal is English
> 
>  **Some terminology I came up with:**  
>  fry - infant 1-2 yrs  
> squirt - toddler 2-5 yrs  
> pup - kid 5-12 yrs  
> stripling - teen 12-19  
> whelp - general term for ages 1-12  
> maren - adult 19-60
> 
>  **CW:**  
>  \- references to mild physical abuse  
> \- child neglect  
> \- some swearing
> 
> If I missed anything, please let me know

Tim first heard of the surface when he was just a squirt. He remembers the moment well - his pod was mingling with visitors on the dropoff, and he stuck close to his mother as she spoke with some of the strangers. Tim was made to wear decorative kelp weave over his torso and shiny stones and shells on seagrass cords around his neck, tail, and wrists. He remembers _hating it -_ the visiting mers spoke in a dialect that was hard to understand, though his pod seemed to have no trouble. 

“ _Surface life is good,”_ one of them said - Tim could understand that. Except for one word - ‘surface’. He had never heard of it before.

After the mers had left he had asked one of his pod members - Mel, a mellow female that was nice to him sometimes - what the surface was. She told him that it was a place where the ocean ended, where there was land and sky and mers could touch air.

“ _What is air?”_ Tim had asked.

“ _Not water,”_ Mel replied. 

He had desperately wanted to ask more, but the pod regrouped and they descended back into their trench. Mel was killed by a shark the next day, and Tim didn’t have anyone else he was comfortable enough with to question.

But Mel’s words stuck with him - _surface, land, sky, air..._ all unfamiliar words without true meaning. Other meetings with pods helped clear things up, and Tim learned more. Birds were mentioned, as were boats, clouds, and beaches. The surface is easily reached - all you need to do is swim up. Tim never dared to question the visitors who mentioned these things. It would be rude and might make them uncomfortable, and Tim’s parents made it clear that he was to make nice and not speak unless spoken to.

For years Tim wondered what it’d be like to go to the surface, up until his parents tell him they’re moving from the trench to go to better waters. Tim blurts it out without meaning to - “ _Are we going to the surface?”_

The resulting lecture isn’t pretty.

Once it’s over, Tim’s previous hope of going to the surface has been extinguished, and he lives with a little more fear in his heart than before for one reason.

Humans.

They’re killers.

They’re monsters.

They’re more dangerous than _orcas_.

Tim’s parents weave a horrific tapestry of humans cutting mers’ fins off for fun, then dumping them into the sea to watch them sink. Of humans slaughtering entire pods, of eating pups and squirts and _frys,_ of ripping mers from the sea and never putting them back.

It gives Tim nightmares for months, but it does the trick.

He is never to go near the surface, shallow water, or boats. If he does, he’ll be killed, or even worse - be stuffed in a tank, alone and cut off from the ocean forever. 

The fear of the surface grows as the pod travels from place to place, encountering other mers and hearing their tales of humans and seeing their scars.

A dingy green and black maren tells them of a hunting vessel that killed half of his pod and left their bodies to be eaten by fish. Half of his fins are torn, and a horrible looking scar traces through his left gills - proof of his survival. _Harpoon,_ he says. 

A grieving cow whispers of a small boat that netted one of their pups. She still carries his favorite seashell.

A swarming pod warns them of a kelp forest where mers are regularly caught in traps - the yellow stripling in the group shows them rope scars around the end of his tail. 

Almost every single mer and pod Tim meets tells tales of the savagery of humans. 

Now Tim is glad his pod stays deep and never ventures anywhere near the shallows. 

The deep is _safe._

  
  
  
  


A problem Tim encounters when he’s around eleven is the fact that he thinks too much. His theory is that because he doesn’t talk a lot, the words never leave his mind and instead tumble around and grow. 

So, naturally, he starts to question the humans.

 _Why_ would they needlessly kill mers? It doesn’t make any sense - what’s their motive? As far as Tim can tell, there isn’t any. 

Maybe...maybe the tales are just that, and the few true stories Tim has heard as irregularities. There’s no way they’re _monsters._ There’s no such thing. 

His theory only grows when his pod is visited by a maren named Grayson.

Tim has never seen a mer like him - his fins sweep majestically and his scales are an impossibly striking shade of blue. All of him contradicts his name. There's nothing ‘gray’ about him.

The pod shelters Tim in its center, as all pups are when first encountering a potential threat. Tim has to float upside down to see around his family’s fins and tails. The dialect Grayson speaks in is foreign to what Tim has grown used to, and it takes him a moment of focus to understand.

“ _It’s completely safe, I promise,”_ Grayson is saying.

Janet crosses her arms. “ _You can’t guarantee that.”_

“ _Well...No, I can’t. Not from sharks and orcas and stuff, though they don’t often go into the bay, but I swear to you there’s no threat of humans there.”_

Mumbles ripple through the pod as Tim’s parents exchange shocked looks.

“ _Are you completely certain?”_ Jack asks.

“ _Of course - it’s a protected area.”_

_“By whom…?”_

_“A trusted human.”_

Tim’s eyebrows shoot up as his pod gasps. A _trusted_ human? Now that is interesting. 

Grayson smiles - it’s so much kinder than Tim is used to. “ _I promise he’s safe. He’s saved my life many times.”_ His smile turns sad for a moment. “ _The water is completely hunter free, I swear it.”_

 _“Will he leave us alone?”_ Jack says.

“ _That I can guarantee. He’d never approach a mer unless you want him to. The bay is a good place to rest.”_ Grayson starts to back away from them and makes a weird gesture - two fingers moved away from his forehead. _“Think about it.”_

He turns and swims off into the deep, where the shadows of distant mers join him. 

It was just a short few minutes, but that quick meeting has Tim reeling. There’s so much to unpack from Grayson’s words - _a trusted human. He’s saved my life._ It must mean Tim’s theory is right, right? Not all humans are bad. That doesn’t mean Tim is going to go up to the surface and say hi to the first human he sees, _neptune_ no. There’s too big of a chance that he’s wrong and all of the ‘humans are monsters’ stories he’s heard are true. 

Still, Tim finds it odd when his parents move the pod to a new place - the bay Grayson told them about, they say. It’s the closest Tim has ever been to the coast, and he marvels at the steep underwater cliffs that rise up into the gloom. 

The pod spends a few days basking in the warm waters and eating what fish they can find. Tim loves the bay - his parents seem to be in a better mood, which is always good, and some of the pod members teach him how to crack open a crab. It’s the first time in years that Tim has gotten undivided attention from his pod, and when he goes up to one of his family to talk to them they actually respond. It’s fantastic.

But a week into the stay, his parents start to get antsy. Tim reels himself back in as he senses that the entire pod is becoming annoyed by him again--which is fine, Tim knows he isn’t the most pleasant mer to be around. It stings a little, but it’s easily shrugged off.

A day later Janet takes Tim to a tiny sea cave in the cliffs, stashes him there, tells him to stay put, then leaves. It’s not shocking - his pod has business that they can’t take a pup to, and sometimes they’ll leave him somewhere safe for a couple days while they go do what they need to.

They’ll come back, they always do, and Tim will wait patiently like a good pup. 

  
  


  
  


Tim plucks a strand of seaweed from the floor of his cave, peels it apart, and starts to braid it. He likes his hiding place - it’s dim, the sand on the floor is soft, and the entrance is too small for any predators to get through. Like orcas, sharks, and birds (whatever those look like). Oh, and every once in a while a fish will wander in, right into his claws. 

On the downside, it’s so _boring_ just sitting in here. His pod has been gone for two days now, and all Tim has done is gaze out of the entrance, twist himself into weird positions for fun, and curl up in the back. That and he’s getting hungry - the odd fish here and there isn’t enough to satisfy him, and his parents don’t always bring back food when they return.

Surely it wouldn’t hurt if Tim went out to find a crab? He’d be staying on the seafloor, as per the rules, and it’s not like he’d be actively hunting - he doesn’t know how. On top of that, he’ll stick close to the cave, he swears it. 

Tim anxiously flares his back fins and taps his claws against the rocks of the cave entrance as he stares into the deep. He can see lots of plants, corals, and sea anemones, as well as fish that Tim already knows are too quick to catch.

There must be a lot of crabs hiding out there.

_Lots._

Tim squirms as an uncomfortable hunger pang twists his stomach. For all he knows, there’s a crab two dolphin-lengths from the cave. 

Slowly, _cautiously,_ Tim inches into the open, freezing each time something moves or he hears an unfamiliar sound. He stays low enough that the rocks brush skin and scale, and he pulls himself along the floor. So far, so good. A few minutes into the adventure, there’s still no sign of danger. 

Tim lets himself drift off of the seafloor so that he’s no longer dragging himself and allows himself a small smile. This is so _exciting._ He’s never ventured out on his own before. Excitement and nerves buzz under his scales as he stretches out and turns in a tight circle. 

Tim is careful not to stray far from the cave. It’s not hard to stay put - there’s so _much_ here. There are shells and fish and plants and rocks, all of them unique and interesting. Tim finds a couple of crabs (he only gets pinched twice) and eagerly scarfs them down. They don’t make him full, but they take the edge off. 

By the time the water starts to darken, Tim is exhausted. He’s done more today than he has...ever. It was fun. Freeing, almost. 

As he curls up in his hiding place, he thinks about how great it would be to be independent--to go where he wants without worrying about what his pod will think, interact with who he wants without his parents looming over his shoulder. 

That’s a long way off, if ever.

Tim is content with his little piece of freedom.

  
  


  
  


The next few days are spent exploring the surrounding area of Tim’s cave. With each passing day, he becomes braver, drifting a little further from home base until the cave is just barely visible in the distance. There’s a small rock formation with an arch on the border of his self-designated territory that he uses as a marker. It’s a lot of fun to play hide-and-seek and chase with passing dolphins around it. 

When he gets hungry, Tim catches a crab, but most of the time he nibbles on kelp instead. It’s easier, since kelp doesn’t fight back. Either way, there’s stuff to snack on here, which is miles better than the usual days spent waiting for his pod to come back and feed him. 

They _do_ come back, six days after dropping him off. They bring him half of a tuna and his parents ask if he’s been good. Tim tells him he’s stayed in the cave (they might punish him if he reveals he left) and says there’s no danger to report. He ignores how his pod is whispering about how they’re surprised he hasn’t gotten himself eaten. Janet pats him on the head, says they’ll be back in a week, and the pod leaves again.

Tim watches their tails fade into the gloom and sighs. He had been hoping they’d take him with them, or at least stick around for a few hours...he takes a despondent bite of his half-eaten tuna. It tastes old. Maybe when they come back they’ll catch something fresh for him.

A few days into the week, Tim gets bolder. 

He swims up the cliff a little bit to see if there are any eels or bigger crabs on it, and the tiny act of rebellion feels _great._ Tim is never supposed to swim up.

Tim snorts as he cracks open a mussel. It’s not like anyone is here to stop him. 

Speaking of which...he turns his gaze further up as he eats his mid-morning snack. The water in the bay is a lighter blue than Tim is used to. Water gets lighter the closer to the surface it is, right? That means that right now, he’s closer to the surface than he’s ever been before. It could be so close...Tim could _go_ there. 

Tim cracks the empty mussel shell in half to stack and un-stack the pieces as he considers going further up. The chances of him running into a boat have to be extremely slim, and therefore there’s no way he’ll be seen by a human. 

That decides it. Tim wants to see the surface, so he will. 

The slow climb along the cliff is nerve-wracking, but also _exhilarating._ Tim is about to break his pod’s number one rule. If his parents found out...they won’t. He’ll make sure they won’t.

The water gets brighter and brighter the higher Tim goes - warmer as well. Something starts to stream down around him, like rays of brightness. 

And there it is.

It _must_ be the surface - there’s a shimmering flat texture just a few lengths above Tim where the rays come through. He lets himself float towards it, enamored. It’s _beautiful._

Tim trills curiously as he reaches towards the shimmering ripples. It dips down unexpectedly and Tim’s hand goes through it - he snatches his hand back and dives as quick as he can back to the safety of the seafloor.

It felt...he doesn’t know how to describe it. It was too... _light_ ; the constant pressure of the water was gone, and there was something brushing around his hand like the silky touch of algae. It was _weird._ There’s vocabulary he’s missing to be able to properly describe the unique sensation.

Tim darts back into his cave and lays down on the sand, massaging the hand that went through the surface.

That’s enough adventuring for one day.

  
  
  


A few more weeks pass. Tim is brought on a trip with his pod once, but it’s over all too soon and he’s returned to the little cave in the bay. He waits a day to start adventuring again, choosing to sleep and regain his energy. When he wakes up, he finds a thick slab of fresh seal in the cave with him, and he digs in happily.

Tim’s parents must have dropped it off.

Once he’s fully awake and rejuvenated by the food, Tim wanders out into the bay. He stays along the floor for now, even though he’s gotten used to the surface. A few days before his parents came back, Tim had a nice chat with a dolphin about what he experienced at the surface. The dolphin, in the few words their languages share, told him that above the surface there is ‘air,’ which is like the opposite of water. It’s harmless, and apparently mers can breathe it if they try.

Tim did try. It hurt at first, and the sensation of air filling his throat and chest was odd, but it only took a few days to get used to it. And once he did… _wow._ He finally got to see birds for the first time, and the sky - oh, the _sky._ Tim can stare at it for hours, watching the clouds and the sun and the birds. 

Still, for now Tim entertains himself with the seafloor. He’s inspecting a strange looking shell when a large-ish shadow moves in the corner of his vision. Tim flattens himself among the rocks, thanking neptune for his blend-able dull orange scales, and watches it with wide eyes.

It looks like a mer. A smallish mer, maybe of stripling age, not that it matters. Strangers - especially if they’re transient or if you’re in their territory - can be extremely dangerous no matter how old they are. Tim has been taught to hide from any mer his parents don’t know.

But then again, Grayson was a stranger to them all and he was nice…

Tim trails the mer from a reasonable distance. Their deep black scales and vibrant red tail fin is easy to follow. Eventually he notices that they’re going into shallower waters, where there are bigger and bigger rock formations, as well as more kelp and other sea plants and fish. By the time the mer slows down, Tim can see the surface from the seafloor.

A new shadow catches Tim’s eye - it’s on the surface and has an elongated oval shape. The mer swims right up to it and pokes their head out of the water.

Tim _has_ to get a better look. He swims until he’s at a comfortable distance, then raises his eyes above the water. He blinks rapidly against the scratchy feeling against his eyes that always comes with the air, and it takes a moment to adjust to the unfiltered brightness, but once he can see clearly, he nearly forgets to breathe.

The mer appears to be a stripling, just as Tim thought. He has his arms folded on the floaty oval platform thing, and on the platform is a human.

A _human._

In his twelve years of life, Tim has _never_ seen a human. Well, never a _live_ one. He’s seen the old skeletons in ancient shipwrecks at the bottom of the trench his pod used to live in. But this one is a living, breathing human of flesh. He (is it a he? It looks like a he) has his legs (Tim is pretty sure that’s what they’re called, and they look freaky) crossed on the platform. 

And the mer is completely at ease. He points at a flat looking object on the platform between him and the human and says something - _says_ something! Can the human merspeak? Or can the mer humanspeak? 

Tim is _dying_ to know. 

The two of them communicate for a few minutes, occasionally tapping or gesturing to the object. The human makes a loud noise, reminiscent to Tim of a sea lion’s bark, and reaches for the mer. Tim tenses - this is where things go bad, isn’t it? The human is attacking, he must be! But the human only ruffles the mer’s hair. The mer playfully bats his hand away and sticks his tongue out, and the human makes the loud noise again. 

Tim is enamored. Captivated. Astonished. About to lose his mind.

Could this be the human Grayson mentioned - the safe one? It has to be.

Would he or the mer take Tim’s intrusion in the bay well? Probably not ; or -- no one likes it when Tim barges into places he wasn’t asked to be, so he should stay secret.

For now.

He watches them interact for a few more minutes before returning to his cave to mull over what he’s seen.

  
  


  
  


It doesn’t take long for Tim to find out that the mer has no set schedule of being in the bay. Where he goes most of the time, Tim has no idea, and he’s already risking discovery with how often he trails him. Tim goes out to where he saw the human, and almost every time the human is there. Half the time the mer is with him. 

Those are the times Tim stays to watch. They’re so _friendly_ with each other. It makes him think of a parent with their whelp, and the connection makes him feel a strange sort of pang in his chest. Tim wishes his father would look at him the way the human looks at the mer. Yet it begs the question as to why the odd pair seem to have a father-son dynamic. Doesn’t the stripling have parents? A pod? Or maybe he’s an orphan and the human is taking care of him, somehow... 

It’s all so bizarre. 

A couple of weeks pass with Tim observing the two. His pod comes back a couple of times, but they don’t take Tim with them,which is fine - he kind of doesn’t want to leave the bay right now. 

Especially since he’s decided to make contact with the human himself. He’ll keep his distance, of course - it’ll just be to see how the human reacts. And Tim will be careful not to approach him with the other mer around. At least Tim can get away from the human. If the mer is territorial or possessive of his human friend, Tim would be screwed.

The human is on a boat when Tim finally manages to find him alone, lying on his back on the low part of the rear. He’s holding something floppy over his face as he stares into it. How _strange._

Tim floats beneath the surface to mentally prepare himself. If the human reacts badly then he’ll just swim away. He’s pretty sure humans can’t go underwater or swim. Hopefully. Neptune, that would be really scary.

Tim breaks the surface a whale-length away from the boat and waits, watching. The human wears a lot of coverings that encase nearly his whole body, from neck to halfway down his legs. Mers only ever wear things for important gatherings and events, though Tim has seen a few who will wear coverings for no apparent reason. Oh, and cows often wear things to keep their chests secure. But no mer coverings are… like that. 

As if he sensed Tim watching him (who knows, maybe he did - humans are bizarre) the human sits up and glances around until his eyes land on Tim.

Tim tenses, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.

Instead of getting angry, the human _smiles._ It’s a small thing, and Tim can barely see it because of how far away he is, but he feels the urge to smile back. He resists.

The human sits up so that his legs (so weird) are dangling over the edge of the boat into the water. He leans back against the raised part of the boat, watching Tim with curious eyes. 

So they both sit there. Observing each other.

Tim _could_ take a chance and go closer… but he decides that this is close enough for today. Satisfied with the test, he ducks under the water and swims away.

The human didn’t seem to hold any ill will towards Tim—if anything, he seemed happy, almost excited at Tim’s presence.

Further tests will have to be conducted. 

  
  
  
  


Almost every day, Tim goes back to where he saw the human the first time, and most times he finds him lounging on a boat. Nearly every time he’s out there, the stripling is there too, so Tim either leaves, watches them interact, or waits until the mer goes away to reveal himself.

So far, the human has been content with watching Tim when he appears, even making a show of acting non-threatening by keeping his movements slow and focusing on whatever object he’s brought with him instead of Tim. Their little interactions only last a few minutes until Tim gets bored and leaves.

Today, the human is sitting on the oval platform thing from when Tim first saw him. Tim has noticed that he’s only ever on it when the other mer is around—but the other mer isn’t around today.

Does...does that mean he _wants_ Tim to approach him? Is it a trap? If the human tries anything, then Tim can probably capsize his flat little boat.

Tim pokes his head out of the water, closer to the human than he’s ever been before—a dolphin-length instead of a whale-length. It takes a minute for him to be noticed, as the human is busy tapping at the black rectangle he sometimes has with him, but eventually he glances up and does a double take.

Tim flinches back when the human moves, but relaxes when all he does is straighten his back. 

The human smiles, puts the rectangle down, and makes a soft noise. It’s the same noise he always makes when he notices Tim is around—it must be the humanspeak greeting. 

It’d be rude not to reply. “ _Hello,”_ Tim chirps shyly. 

The human’s smile widens. He points at himself and makes a different sound. Tim tilts his head. The human does it again.

Is he giving Tim his _name?_ It sounds absolutely bizarre, kind of like ‘broose,’ if Tim is hearing it correctly. Broose doesn’t make any sense as a name, but then again, Tim doesn’t know enough about humanspeak to judge. 

Tim scrunches up his nose. “ _Your name is weird,”_ he tells Broose. 

Broose points at himself again and repeats his name.

Tim drifts a little closer. “Oose?” The word is clunky in his mouth, and some of the sounds just won’t form.

Broose’s eyebrows shoot up and his smile returns. He nods. “Broose.”

“ _Why is your name so strange?”_ Tim asks, not that he’ll get an answer. “Oose,” he repeats to himself, rolling the word on his tongue. Speaking it requires a completely new way of moving his tongue and how he makes sound. Merspeak is all lilting whistles, clicks, and trills. Humanspeak feels dull. 

Oh. Wait a second, Tim just _humanspoke._ The realization brings a smile to his lips and he does a quick underwater roll in his joy. Tim rises above the surface again and chirps, “Oose!”

Bruce makes a quiet version of the sound he often makes around the other mer—Tim is pretty sure it’s a human laugh. He seems pretty happy with Tim learning his name.

Tim points at himself and says, “ _Tim.”_

Broose tilts his head.

“ _Tim,”_ Tim repeats.

Broose makes an absolutely butchered attempt that sounds like a dolphin choking on sardine bones. Tim laughs so hard that he sinks into the water as he clutches his stomach, ribs aching with the force of it. Through the wavy surface he can see Broose chuckling.

This is _fun._ And Broose is _nice._

Tim comes back up and dares to inch closer to the platform. It seems to delight Broose.

“ _What is that?”_ Tim asks, pointing at the shiny flat rectangle in front of Broose. Broose makes a couple of sounds that Tim can’t even begin to decipher, then slowly slides the rectangle to the end of the platform. Tim glances between it and Broose, wondering if it’s okay to touch or if it’s a ‘look only’ thing.

Broose makes an encouraging string of noises and gestures at the rectangle. Tim smiles—that must mean it’s safe to touch. He drifts close enough to reach out and poke it, then he brushes his palm over the surface.

It’s impossibly smooth, even more so than the piece of seaglass that Tim keeps in his cave. The black surface reflects the sky as well, and Tim watches his own hand’s reflection, captivated.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tim sees Broose reach out to him—and a million scenarios flash through Tim’s mind in the span of a second. He sees Broose grabbing him and pulling him from the water, or hurting him with his clawless hands. Tim flings himself away from the platform and dives down as quick as he can, fear thrumming in his veins. 

Why was Broose reaching for him? Tim thought he was nice! Did Tim make a mistake, was touching the rectangle _wrong?_ Warnings tumble through his mind as he speeds back to his cave. 

_‘Some humans play nice to get mers close, then they catch them and eat them.’_

_‘Humans are volatile monsters that change their behavior at the drop of a shell.’_

Tim doesn’t slow down until he’s safely curled up in the back of his cave. His gills flutter as he tries to catch his breath and his tail muscles burn from how fast he was swimming. 

Once his mind calms down, he finds himself wondering if he overreacted. After all, whenever Broose reaches out to the other mer, it’s to ruffle his hair, so maybe he was just going to do that to Tim. Still, Tim doesn’t like being touched. He’ll find a way to tell Broose that, if he goes back. He _wants_ to go back.

In a few days, maybe—Tim is getting hungry and should spend a little while foraging for snacks. That, and his pod is due back soon. 

Tim really hopes Broose is still a good human.

He digs his seaglass piece out of the sand and turns it over in his hands, comparing the texture to the smooth rectangle. 

  
  


  
  


A couple days later, Tim’s pod comes back, and they take him on a short trip—short, because it ends early when Tim makes a fool of his parents in front of an important pod. As punishment, they take him back to the bay. 

Tim spends a few hours curled up in the back of his cave, crying as his parents’ harsh words ring in his head. It takes a while for the sting of the new scratches on his face and arm to dull to a distant throb that can easily be ignored. He stays there, tracing patterns in the sand until he stops sniffling. 

It’s not like he doesn’t deserve it - he messed up and was rightly punished. Neptune, he’s so _worthless._ No wonder his pod never wants to take him on trips. All Tim does is ruin things.

He sniffs one last time and rolls onto his back. There’s a starfish on the cave ceiling. Tim lifts his tail up to compare his pale coral-colored scales to the vibrant orange creature, and it only makes him even more miserable. A _starfish_ is prettier than him. 

Maybe a swim will make Tim feel better. Once the weight of misery lifts enough for Tim to move, he drags himself out of his cave and drifts aimlessly. He’s hungry—then again, he’s always hungry. Mer life is tough, but Tim really shouldn’t complain. There’re a ton of mers out there who have it worse than him. At least he has a safe place to rest, a pod that cares for him, and parents who love him.

Tim tries to catch a crab, but it pinches him and he almost starts crying again, so he stops trying. At some point, Tim finds a patch of soft seagrass, and he lays down in the tendrils for a break. He swishes his tail and watches a sea cucumber for a while. Then he tries to do a handstand, and he fails spectacularly. 

It’s at times like this that Tim wishes he had other pups to play with. He thinks he remembers another whelp in his pod when he was just a squirt, but they could’ve been from a visiting pod. Tim is never allowed to go play with other pods’ whelps—he has to stay in the main gathering and mingle to present himself as a worthy member of the Drake pod. It sucks. 

Tim heaves a sigh and rolls onto his back to watch the light filtering through the surface.

Oh. There’s a boat.

Maybe it’s Broose. 

Tim cautiously swims up to it and pokes his head out of the water to see who’s on it. 

It _is_ Broose! Tim hasn’t seen him since the incident with the rectangle. 

This boat is a bit different from the one Broose is usually on—it’s lower in the water, and the back of it is open to the air and rests directly on the water. Tim holds onto the lip of the boat and rests his chin on it as he watches Broose, who’s sitting on the floor and is scratching a short, slender stick against the floppy thing he sometimes has with him. 

_Humans are so bizarre_ , Tim thinks as he watches Broose do whatever it is he’s doing. 

This goes on for several minutes, until Broose’s eyes flick to Tim and he startles so badly that he drops the objects he’s holding. Tim lets go of the boat and backs away at the sudden movement, but Broose is quick to smile and make reassuring noises—he makes a lot of those, Tim has noticed. They sound nice. He holds his hand out in an ‘It’s okay, stay’ kind of way. 

Tim marginally relaxes. Broose crosses his legs, facing him. Their little standoff lasts for a few minutes until Tim thinks it's safe to lift his head and chest out of the water and rest his arms on the boat like he’s seen the other mer do. 

Broose’s delighted smile melts into a frown as his eyebrows draw together. He gestures to his face, then his left arm, and makes a concerned noise.

 _What? Oh_ —Tim ghosts his claws over the thin cuts on his cheek where his father struck him, then the ones on his arm where his mother’s claws had dug into his skin. He drops his hand and shrugs. No big deal, it happens sometimes. 

Broose doesn’t seem happy with his reply, but he nods anyway and picks up his dropped stuff to start scratching in the floppy thing again. 

Tim is content to watch, up until he notices the bag. It’s closer to him than Broose on the floor, and it’s full of dark stuff that might be food. Food sounds really good right now. Tim glances at Broose, who seems to be fully absorbed in his work.

As slowly as a sea cucumber, Tim pushes himself onto the boat and wriggles until he can reach the bag, keeping an eye on Broose the whole time. It’s kind of scary to only have half his tail in the water, but now that he can smell the bag’s contents he just doesn’t care. Whatever it is, it smells _good. Really_ good. 

Tim hooks a claw on the corner of the bag and drags it over to him. He plucks a brown piece from inside and sniffs it experimentally. It might be meat. Tim nibbles on a corner.

Once again, Tim finds himself lacking the vocabulary to describe what this tastes like. It’s definitely meat, but what kind, Tim has no idea. All he knows is that it’s _delicious._

Broose makes a noise. Tim drops the food like it bit him and he shoves himself off the boat as quickly as possible. He resurfaces a few dolphin-lengths away and trills nervously. Broose shakes his head, smiling, and picks up a piece to put it on the edge of the boat before going back to his current hobby, though this time he settles closer to the edge than before. 

Tim inches closer until he can snatch the piece off the boat. Broose glances at him and huffs a laugh, making no move to touch him. 

Eating the brown pieces seems to be okay, Tim thinks as he nibbles on one. It’s tough and chewy, and it’s satisfying to rip strands off and chew them. Once he finishes the piece he finds himself wanting more. Broose takes one and starts chewing on it himself, then places another within Tim’s reach.

It’s such a simple gesture, but it makes Tim feel a little like crying. He takes it with a quiet, “ _Thank you.”_

It goes on like this for a while. Tim eats as he watches Bruce work, and when he’s done Broose puts a new one within reach. That is, until Broose changes the routine. 

Instead of putting the next piece on the edge of the boat, Broose just holds it out. In his hand. He’s not looking up, but he’s _still holding it._

Tim lashes his tail as he scowls at him - why doesn’t he just put it down? Tim is _hungry,_ and this is just plain mean. It could be a trap. But… he’s just so hungry. 

Ready to flee, Tim drifts closer until he’s within biting distance, watching Broose the entire time for a hint of hostility. Tim snatches the food straight from Broose’s hand as quickly as possible and backs up.

Broose grins and lowers his hand.

  
  


  
  


The next time Tim catches Broose alone, he’s much more relaxed. He’s thought over their recent interactions and has come to the conclusion that Broose is safe and definitely a friend.

It makes Tim happier than he’d like to admit.

This time, instead of staying out of reach, he swims right up to the boat and rests his arms on the edge, then points at what Broose is holding:the smooth rectangle.

Broose seems surprised at Tim’s sudden bravery—for a split second Tim thinks that maybe he shouldn’t be so flippant, but then Broose smiles and holds out the rectangle. 

Tim takes it and places it on the boat so that he can inspect it. It squeaks when he drags the pad of his finger over it, and his claws make a nice clicking sound when he taps it. Tim trills happily and turns it this way and that, examining the soft-ish covering on the back and the raised bits on the sides. He tries to bite it, but Broose makes a displeased grunt and shakes his head, so Tim stops. It doesn’t taste good anyway.

Broose seems happy to watch him play with the rectangle, and Tim is happy that he has a new friend. 

Tim presses one of the raised bits and it gives under his claw. 

The black surface _lights up._

He drops it with a shriek and throws himself back into the water, swimming straight down as he rubs his eyes, heart pounding. 

What in the seven seas was _THAT?_

Not okay, that’s what!

Tim has no idea what he did, or if he broke it—oh no. Did he break it? Broose is probably so mad at him if he broke it. 

Tim isn’t eager to find out right now, just in case Broose _is_ mad.

Hopefully he isn’t. 

  
  


It turns out the rectangle is _supposed_ to do that, Tim finds out a few days later. 

After a tentative greeting, Broose shows him the rectangle and purposefully presses the side. The front lights up again. Tim is so relieved that he didn’t break it that it doesn’t even shock him. The surface shows… Tim isn’t sure what they are. It looks like the huge mounds on the land, but even bigger and covered in green, and there are strange white symbols on the front.

“ _What is it?”_ Tim asks. Broose tilts his head and Tim rolls his eyes. He points at himself and says “ _Tim_ ,"then at his friend, “Oose,” then at the rectangle and pointedly raises his eyebrows. 

Understanding lights up Broose’s eyes. He taps the rectangle and says clearly, “Tablet.”

Tim tries to repeat the word—it comes out as “Aleh.” He scowls at himself, then at Broose when he chuckles at Tim’s bad attempt.

Stupid humanspeak sounds are completely irrational.

Tim huffs at him and smacks the water with his tail. “ _Your language is stupid,”_ he tells Broose, because it is. 

Broose laughs and slides the tablet over to him. He swipes his finger against the front and Tim’s irritation evaporates as the surface _changes_ to a swirl of colors _,_ like a cuttlefish! Tim gasps and tries swiping it. The little squares on the colors slide off the tablet. Tim tilts his head to look next to the tablet to see where the squares have fallen, but… they’re gone.

“ _How?”_ Tim asks, looking up at Broose with pinched eyebrows. Broose chuckles and swipes the other direction. The squares reappear. Tim gasps again. That’s so _cool!_ He swipes left and right a few times just to see the squares vanish and come back. 

Broose taps one of the squares and the colors change _again,_ but before Tim can marvel at it he hears the far off trill of an approaching mer.

Tim pushes off the boat and flees before he’s spotted. Broose might be friendly, but the other mer might not be. H really doesn’t want to find out—especially since the mer is bigger than he is, and the scars he saw when the stripling passed his hiding place one time tell of many battles fought.

The cuts on his face and cheek are still healing, and he isn’t eager to get new injuries.

Tim definitely isn’t going to risk tangling with him.

  
  


  
  


Two more months pass. Tim goes on a couple of trips with his pod, and only one of them ends badly, which is a total win! Well, not really—none of them should’ve gone badly, but Tim takes what he can get. On the second trip, his parents were in a really good mood, though. Janet even let him take a nap on her tail fin. 

Broose has taught Tim some more humanspeak during their meetings, like ‘hello, bye, ocean, fish, boat, jerky’, and ‘paddleboard’. Of course, Tim can barely pronounce them, but it’s the thought that counts. Broose just seems happy that he’s trying to learn. Tim tried to teach Broose some merspeak, but he butchered the words so badly that Tim gave up. 

Lately, things have been good. Tim has been decorating his cave, since it’s apparently his home now. There’s a seaglass collection in the corner, and Tim found a way to use weaved kelp strands to hang things from the ceiling. His visits with Broose (which aren’t terribly often, but usually twice a week) are going well. Broose sometimes brings snacks, and he lets Tim play with his tablet—a wondrous, magical contraption. 

Tim is enjoying his alone time in the bay and the visits with his human friend. Who knew his first real friend wouldn’t even be a mer?

Somehow he doesn’t mind.

  
  


  
  


One morning Tim finds Broose on his paddleboard. He’s closer to the beach than usual, but Tim doesn’t mind. It means warmer water.

He’s almost to his friend when a shadow catches his eye. Tim freezes as cold fear fills his chest, gripping his veins with icy claws and sending dread to curl in his stomach. 

_Shark._ A big one.

Tim should sneak away before he’s noticed—wait. It’s circling, getting ready to lunge, but it’s not in the right space to be going after Tim… oh.

Oh no. 

Tim is moving before he even realizes it. He forces his tail to pump faster as he speeds through the water quicker than he ever has before, desperate to get to Broose first. 

He’s almost to the surface when the shark lunges. 

Tim leaps from the water and slams Broose off of the board right before the shark bites down. The impact knocks the water out of Tim’s gills, and Broose is weirdly solid, but Tim doesn’t hesitate in wrapping both of his arms around one of Broose’s own to start dragging him away. 

“ _Why are you so HEAVY,”_ Tim wheezes. He’s moving his tail up and down as hard as he can, but he’s barely moving Broose. 

Broose starts moving and—humans can swim? Tim supposes that makes sense. Thank Neptune, though, Tim thought he was going to have to lug him all the way to safety. 

Tim keeps his hold on Broose’s arm as he helps (he thinks) his friend struggle to the beach. It’s awkward, as Broose keeps his head above the water and is frankly _horrible_ at swimming, but eventually they reach shallow enough water that Broose can stop swimming. 

Still, Tim continues to pull on his arm until a small wave dislodges him and pushes him up onto the beach. Broose flops onto his back next to Tim, gasping. Tim is in a similar state. 

Once Tim no longer feels like he’s dying, he pushes himself up on his hands to check Broose for any blood. He pokes his friend and yelps, “Oose? _Are you okay?_ Oose!” 

Broose waves a hand and nods as his breathing starts to calm. Tim is pretty sure he’s saying he’s okay.

Tim lets out a relieved whoosh of air and lets himself flop back on the warm sand. Thank _fuck,_ pardon his language. That was way too close for comfort. Broose sits up and reaches towards Tim, only to catch himself and take his hand back.

“ _I’m okay too,”_ Tim tells him and waves his tail fin. Broose nods and rests his elbow on a bent leg, staring out at the sea. He scowls and says something that contains the word ‘paddleboard.’ 

Tim swishes his tail along the sand, and it feels strange. Two things hit him in at once: 

  1. Tim has never been this close to Broose.
  2. He’s _beached._



This isn’t good, this _isn’t good_ —

Tim flips over and tries to wriggle back into the water, but the sand is too _not wet_ and it gives under his claws and he can’t get a grip and the tide keeps pushing him back up the beach and Tim _can’t get a grip_ —

Broose catches his attention by holding his hands out, palms up. Tim freezes, chest heaving against the sand as he regards them warily. A part of him is waiting for those large, clawless hands to grab him and wrench him from the sea forever.

They don’t. Broose waits patiently.

Tim hesitantly wraps his hands around Broose’s fingers. Without missing a beat Broose pulls him into the water until they’re past the waves. 

Tim lets go and floats on the surface as he stares at Broose, dumbfounded. Especially as Broose just… walks out of the water. Without trying anything.

He turns to face Tim and says slowly, clearly, “Thank you.”

Well. Tim has no idea what _that_ means, but it sounds good. He smiles and darts back into familiar depths. 

  
  
  
  


About a week after the shark incident, Tim wakes up nice and refreshed after a long nap. He yawns and turns over on the soft sand in his cave, relishing in the texture under his tail. Today will be a good day, he thinks.

He opens his eyes— and stares right into someone else’s.

Tim screams and flattens himself against the back of the cave.

The mer peering in yelps and flinches back. “ _Sorry! Sorry, don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt you.”_

Tim is _not_ convinced. 

The mer backs up some more and offers a tentative smile. Wait a second… this is Broose’s mer friend!

 _“You’ve been in the bay for a while, huh?”_ the mer says.

Bad. Bad bad, that is BAD. He must not like other mers in his territory, like Tim thought, and oh Neptune, he should’ve left Broose alone - 

“ _Oh, don’t worry!”_ the mer says quickly. “ _I’m not gonna chase you out, or anything. I’m just curious, is all. Especially after you saved my dad the other day.”_

His dad? But Tim hasn’t even seen a fellow mer lately, much less saved...one… oh. Oh! Tim was _right!_ Broose _is_ this stripling’s adopted dad, like he suspected.

The mer snorts at the expression Tim must be making. “ _Yeah, I know. A mer adopted by a human. Crazy.”_

Tim purses his lips. He doesn’t think it’s crazy.

“ _Or just insanely weird.”_ The stripling raises an eyebrow. “ _You gonna come out or what?”_

Right, Tim is still cowering in the back of his cave like a frightened squirt. He nods and the mer moves to the side to let him out. 

“ _There we go,”_ the mer chirps. “ _Want to go hunting? You look hungry.”_

Tim swishes his tail and mumbles, “ _I could eat.”_

“ _He speaks! Come on, there’s a shoal nearby.”_ The mer starts to swim away, and after a moment of hesitation, Tim follows.

Tim examines him as they swim. He barely has any fins - just the one on his back and pectoral fins. All three are lined with orange. They’re strange markings, but they make him look cool, especially with how vibrant they look against the deep black of his scales. It’s nothing like Tim’s boring dull orange. There’s a decorative red cord wrapped around the end of his tail, right before his tail fin starts. 

The mer glances at him and asks, " _What’s your name?”_

_“Uh...Tim.”_

_“Nice to meet you, uh Tim.”_ He grins and holds out his hand. _“I’m_ Jason.”

Tim balks at the sudden switch to humanspeak. It sounds muffled and flat in the water. 

‘Jason’ drops his hand and flips over to swim on his back. “ _What’s wrong? You look shocked.”_

 _“Your name… it’s humanspeak,”_ Tim says slowly. 

Jason quirks an eyebrow. " _Yeah._ Bruce _gave it to me.”_

Tim blinks. Bruce? That sounds like a more refined pronunciation of Broose—aw, darn. Tim has been getting Broose— _Bruce’_ s name wrong the whole time! That’s so embarrassing…

“ _I don’t think I can pronounce it,”_ Tim says.

“ _Don’t worry about it, Tim._ English _is a bitch to get used to.”_

“Ehish?”

Jason chuckles. “ _Close enough. It's the, uh...dialect of_ Bruce’s _humanspeak.”_

 _“Oh.”_ Tim’s back fins flare anxiously. So, Jason clearly knows fluent humanspeak _and_ he’s Bruce’s adopted son. Tim has been shoving his way into Bruce’s life. Jason _has_ to be mad about that, right?

They reach the shoal before Tim can apologize for intruding. Jason elbows him with a sharkish grin before darting towards the fish in an impressive burst of speed. They explode around him in a brilliant flash of silver.

 _Wow._ Tim is breathless as he watches Jason sweep through the shoal with expert twists and lunges, eating fish whole every other attempt. His movements are fluid and precise, _impressive._

 _“Well?”_ Jason asks, curving around Tim and playfully tugging on one of his back fins. “ _You gonna dig in or what?”_

Tim’s lips quirk in a nervous smile.

He has no idea how to hunt. 

It’ll be fine.

He swims into the shoal and flails as he tries to copy Jason’s moves. He fails miserably, grabbing aimlessly and missing every single fish. They’re judging him, he can feel it. They fill his vision with silver and slap against his side until he pops out of the shoal.

“ _Holy shit!”_ Jason is holding his stomach as he howls with laughter. “ _What the fuck was that?”_

Tim’s face burns and he flattens his fins. It’s not his fault…

Jason’s laughter subsides and he shakes his head, swiping a claw under his eye. " _Oh, man… who taught you how to hunt?”_

Tim ducks his head and scrunches his nose against the sudden scratchiness in his eyes. No one. Not one mer has ever taught him how to hunt properly.

Jason sobers immediately. _“Ah, man…”_ He drifts over to Tim and knocks their tail fins together. “ _Sorry, buddy, I didn’t mean to make you upset. Do… do you even know how to hunt?”_

Tim shakes his head. Some mer he is.

“ _That’s chill, seriously.”_ Jason lightly punches his shoulder, smiling once again. “ _I_ _n that case… wanna learn?”_

  
  


Tim decides he likes Jason. He’s funny, nice, and when he comes by Tim’s cave, he teaches him new stuff about humans. He even helps with Tim’s ‘English’ pronunciations. The visits last between a couple of hours to a full day, and Tim loves every second, even if the visits leave him feeling drained. 

He has a friend! A _mer_ friend! Bruce is great and all, but it gets annoying not being able to properly communicate or do anything fun. 

It’s a rare occasion, but every few weeks everyone’s schedules line up so that Tim can hang out with Bruce and Jason together—it’s happened about three times now. The first time lasted for ten minutes until it started to rain, and Bruce and Jason had to leave.The second lasted nearly ten minutes before a mini tablet Bruce had started to make noise and he left, but the third was a full hour visit!

Jason acted as a translator, and Tim got to have his first actual conversation with Bruce. It went well until Tim told Bruce that his choice of coverings made him look like a color-blind beluga, and Jason laughed too hard to translate. The expression on Bruce’s face was priceless.

Tim is coming to love his friends. They’re never mean to him, they’re incredibly patient with his timidness, and even when Tim accidentally broke Bruce’s tablet, neither of them were angry. If anything _Bruce_ apologized to _Tim_ for not warning him that the tablet can’t be submerged in water. It was so backwards, but Tim was so relieved that he almost started crying. 

They’re starting to work out a visit routine, and it’s surprisingly easy to schedule around Tim’s pod’s visits. Now, when Tim goes with his pod on trips, he finds himself… not enjoying it. Not like he used to. He’s starting to notice the lack of warmth in their eyes, how quick they are to ignore him and snap at him—how distant they all are, despite being family.

It’s… confusing. Why are a lone mer and a human warmer towards Tim than his own pod? He tries not to think about it. 

No that it matters—at least they still want Tim with them, and he spends most of his time in the bay with Bruce and Jason anyway.

Life is great. Tim is finally starting to feel like things are looking up.

Then Tim’s pod takes him on a month-long trip—and when he comes back,i t doesn’t take him long to find out that something is very, very wrong. 

  
  
  
  


It takes two weeks for Tim to see Bruce again, and that’s only because he decided to look for him at the ‘research center,’ as Jason called it. Tim wasn’t going to go there, like, ever, but Bruce hasn’t been out on the bay the entire time, which is concerning to say the least. Tim is worried. 

Tim approaches the sea-side buildings cautiously, scanning the dock for any sign of his friend. The water is stone gray, reflecting the dull blanket of clouds overhead. 

There he is.

Tim opens his mouth to call a greeting, but the words die in his throat. Bruce is standing at the end of the dock next to a small statue, and he’s gazing down at something in his hands. His shoulders are hunched. The black material of the layers of clothes he’s wearing make him look miserable under the overcast sky. It looks like he’s crying.

Something is so very wrong.

After a few minutes Bruce crouches and does something to the statue, and he stays still with his hands on it for so long that Tim is almost sure he’s become one himself. But then, Bruce stands abruptly and leaves. 

Tim waits until he’s out of sight to approach the statue. It’s a carving of two people embracing as waves of stone crash around them. 

Wrapped around their clasped hands is a red cord.

It reeks of mer blood.

  
  


  
  


Bruce is getting reckless. He’s going out in storms and coming back with increasingly bad injuries. Tim only notices because he’s moon-gazing one night and sees Bruce ride out on a tiny boat out of the bay. He comes back hurt, but he does it again the next night. Tim stays up every night until Bruce comes back, just to make sure he _does._

Tim hasn’t visited him since… since. Bruce is never just out on the water anymore.

It’s getting bad.

Tim is scared for him.

A few weeks after his return,Tim makes a decision. There’s one mer that can help, one who Jason told Tim about. He's a legend among the mer community and a ferocious yet kind protector who travels along the coast with his makeshift pod of friends, helping others when they can. 

Bruce’s first adopted mer son. 

The next day after Tim makes the decision to find him, Tim’s pod visits. As soon as they leave, Tim sneaks out of the bay. He has a plan:travel up the coast to the waters of San Francisco, where the Titans are rumored to be based. It’ll be a few days swim, but Tim is confident he can do it.

This is something he needs to do, for Bruce’s sake. Otherwise...Tim doesn’t want to think about what will happen.

He’ll find Grayson and bring him back.

**Author's Note:**

> I came up with an absurd amount of detail about this au. Things really got out of hand. Also it's difficult as _fuck_ to describe human-made objects from the perspective of someone who doesn't know what they are. 
> 
> As always, kudos/comments keep me goin', thank you for reading
> 
> Shove me off a cliff @ [Batshit-Birds](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/batshit-birds) on Tumblr


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